


Prince of Heart

by majiklapin (torikasa)



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24461377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torikasa/pseuds/majiklapin
Summary: Ventus is the prince of heart in name only. Unlike the rest of his royal family, he has no magic to speak of. After the kidnapping of the princess of heart, Ventus realizes he is only a burden to the royal family and decides to make something out of himself.
Relationships: Kairi & Ventus (Kingdom Hearts), Vanitas/Ventus (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

The redheaded princess of heart, dressed in a flowing, regal white dress adorned with pink flowers, stands at the top of the staircase and looks down at the party below. Some people seem to have noticed her and are waving to catch her attention. Some other guests are busying themselves with either socializing or eating—or both. There are tables filled with an assortment of food, some that the princess has never seen in her life, and her stomach grumbles just imagining how delicious something so pretty could be.

She starts to walk downstairs, her brown boots peeking from underneath the floor-length dress, when she hears familiar voices calling her name behind. She turns around and offers a gentle smile to her two royal guards, who both walk up on each side of her.

“Kairi, you’re finally here!” Sora says excitedly. Kairi nods in affirmation, the small smile still lingering on her face. “You’re usually never this fashionably late to a party, especially your _own_ party.”

Kairi sheepishly looks to the floor but says nothing.

Riku eyes her with an unreadable expression on his face. “Still have a sore throat?”

Still looking at the floor, the redhead nods, softly touching her neck for effect. Riku wordlessly nods in sympathy.

“Well, let’s still try to enjoy the party, shall we, birthday girl?” Sora grins and links an arm around one of Kairi’s own arms. Riku mirrors the action, and together, the trio walks down the wide set of stairs, immediately immersed with the lively party atmosphere upon stepping onto the ballroom floor.

Kairi unhooks her arms from the knights beside her and takes in the entirety of the party with starstruck eyes. From atop the stairs, everything already looked like a fantasy land, but actually being on the ballroom floor, surrounded completely with dancing and festivities, feels too good to be true. 

She immediately scurries over to one of the dining tables, eyes completely transfixed on a piece of strawberry cake just beckoning her to eat it, when all of a sudden, a small mob of people are surrounding her, their chatting jumbling up with one another’s words.

The princess smiles awkwardly, unsure of what to do in a situation like this, so she ends up trying to politely squeeze out of the group. However, she keeps getting pushed and shoved around, people practically screeching in her ear to listen to her. They’re trying to poke her and hold her hands now, and Kairi is so dazed at all the movement and talking and touching that she feels dizzy and about to faint. She can faintly make out a couple words every now and then, finally realizing that the crowd around her are people desperately asking for healing services.

Suddenly, she feels a hand grab at her wrist, pulling her away from the crowd and into warm arms. She looks up to see Riku smiling sympathetically down at her, his arm securely around her waist now, his other arm preoccupied with holding one of her hands.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly, his mouth so close to her ears that she can feel his breath. She shivers, feeling her cheeks get warm, and nods silently, looking back to her prior destination of the dining table and seeing the strawberry cake has long since vanished. She sighs inwardly, looking back at the crowd now who are all still looking at her and murmuring among themselves.

Riku follows her gaze and pats her on the head softly. “The people of the kingdom love you, Kairi, maybe a little too much. Being such a beloved princess is hard, huh?”

He spins her around, and suddenly, she feels herself wrapped up in a different pair of arms, though equally warm and welcoming. “Me and Riku—we have presents for you. But we’ll give them to you later,” Sora says cheerily, winking.

The princess smiles fondly, resting her forehead on Sora’s shoulder. She knows how popular and beloved the princess of heart is. Everyone loves her. Everyone adores her. But she has never realized how frantic people can get about her, pushing and shoving just for a chance to talk to her. It’s a little overwhelming, but she thinks, with everyone’s faith and hope resting in her, it’s only understandable that people react in such a way, especially considering the impact of the princess of heart’s healing capabilities can have on a kingdom strife with disease and crime.

She lets out a soundless sigh, feeling a small ache in her chest. The royal family are all gifted with magic, and the princess is the sole magic user capable of healing powers. The burden of the kingdom’s sick falls squarely on the princess’s shoulders, and she frowns at that thought.

She tries shaking her clouded mind out of her worries and tries to refocus on dancing now, realizing that she has been accidentally stepping on Sora’s toes far too often. She tries to resynch her feet to the melody, but she awkwardly realizes that she doesn’t even know how to do.

She smiles sheepishly at Sora, who chuckles and pats her had. “It’s okay. Just follow my lead.”

The princess does as she is told and tries to mirror the brunet’s movements carefully, letting the music envelope her, almost like a shield to protect her from her prior worrying thoughts. She is smiling now—not awkwardly, not sheepishly—but wholeheartedly, having fun just swaying around without a care in the world.

As the music dies down and their movements slacken, she notices that Sora is staring at her intensely now.

“You know,” Sora starts thoughtfully, bringing his face dangerously close to the redhead’s. She blushes profusely, redirecting her face anywhere but in front of the knight’s face. Sora laughs heartily and continues, “Your eyes look awfully green today. It must be the lighting here, huh?” Sora’s smile softens. “But they’re really pretty like this.”

Kairi feels her heart thumping incessantly now, feeling as if it’ll jump out of her chest at any given moment. She pushes herself gently away from the brunet, who only looks at her with a small smile, and without looking back at him, bunches up her dress and scurries away in any direction but there. She can already hear the commotion of the group of people earlier, loudly requesting her to hear their pleas and to _please, for the love of God_ , _please_ heal their loved ones.

The dancing music playing right now is a huge contrast from the gentle ballad before and is now a fast-paced frantic tango. The music mixing in with all the laughter and screaming and the harsh pounding of feet on the ballroom floor and the endless sound of everyone saying _Kairi, Kairi, Kairi_ is swirling around in her head. She feels lightheaded now, wanting peace and quiet right this very instant lest she blackout from all the noise, so she continues running until she recognizes a door—the door that will lead her to her sanctuary.

She pushes it, praying to herself that no one is following her, and stumbles around the thick maze-like bushes. She breathes in slowly—the first breath she has taken since feeling overwhelmed—taking in the sweet fragrance of all the flowers idly dancing in the gentle wind. She continues to stumble around, walking deeper and deeper into the garden, until she finds a bench—her bench.

She promptly lays down on it, feeling all her senses returning and her body finally relaxing. She closes her eyes, basking in the peace and quiet. Even her mind stills, the worries offering her mercy and lingering in the back of her mind to be recounted another time.

The wind is nice and cool against her cheeks, which she feels has been ruddy all night. Parties just might not be her thing, she concludes sadly, but she pushes the thought away, wanting to relax fully.

She opens her eyes slightly and sees the stars twinkling in the night sky. She touches her chest, feeling around for her necklace, and pulls it out. She raises the necklace above her face, the slightly transparent star-shaped trinket glistening under the lighted skies.

All of a sudden, she hears a rustling nearby, and she shoots up immediately, hiding her necklace back into her dress. She thinks someone must’ve followed her out here. Probably just a commoner wanting to ask for healing services. But the bad feeling sitting in the pit of her stomach is screaming at her that whatever is making the rustling sound is dangerous.

Maybe… it _isn’t_ just a guest from the party, she thinks, her thoughts thinking of all the crime that happens in the kingdom, especially at the royal palace. Frantically, the paranoia coursing through her veins, she looks around for anything she can use as a weapon, spotting a pair of gardening sheers nearby. She makes a grab for it and holds it in a reverse grip in her right hand, stalking around quietly while holding her breath.

Another rustle alerts her to a huge bush behind her. She saunters towards it now, her grip on the shears tightening, when all of a sudden she feels a strong breeze push against her back, an arm now snaked around her waist and her neck.

She gasps out, feeling lightheaded from the increasing loss of air, but manages to muster up enough strength to stab the shears backwards as hard as she can. She hears the perpetrator hiss, but the hold around her—cold and iron-like—tighten, so much so that her vision begins to dim along with her consciousness. The last thing she hears before fading is a string of angry expletives thrown her way, and suddenly, she’s gone.

…

Eyes flutter open and are immediately met with the angriest glare from a pair of strikingly golden eyes. The princess shuffles around but realizes her hands are bound, wrists chafing against the rope. The owner of the golden eyes is shuffling towards her now, shoving a red object in her face.

“Tell me why the famous _redheaded_ _princess_ is a spiky blond bastard right now,” the kidnapper grumbles angrily, his voice slightly muffled from his black mask.

The blond shakes his face away from what he recognizes as the red wig he was wearing all night and starts glaring back at the kidnapper. Tufts of spiky black hair are poking out from underneath the black hood, and he can just make out various scars adorning a very muscled arm. When the kidnapper closes the space between their faces, the blond notices scars everywhere on his face as well, and he sees how mesmerizing and almost cat-like those golden eyes shooting daggers at him are.

“You’re not the princess,” he sneers into the blond’s face, looking as if he is ready to murder at any second. 

Suddenly, he whips out a blade from his pocket and holds it against the blond’s neck. The cool contact makes the blond shiver as he tears his gaze away from his kidnapper.

He hears a gruff scoff. “Tell me who you are or I’ll kill you. Though depending on your answer, I might still kill you.”

The blond’s chest is thumping incessantly loud in his chest. He tries to struggle his wrists free, but they seem to only tighten the more he struggles, so he settles for thinking of what to say instead. This man is a kidnapper, but his intention was to kidnap the princess, not _him_. Telling the kidnapper the truth of his identity may only endanger the princess even more, so he resolves to staying completely silent.

The cold blade presses further into his skin, choking a small gasp out of him. The black-haired man says, “Not talking, huh? Have it your way.”

The blond looks down, bracing himself for the worst, when he sees red dripping from the side of the man’s robe. He squints and notices a large gash on the side of his stomach, a fresh wound pulsating out blood. His eyes widen as he recounts the moments before his blacking out. He croaks out shakily, “You’re… hurt.”

The black-haired man lets out an ugly laugh. “ _You’re_ the one who did this.”

“I can help you if you untie me,” the blond breaths out slowly. He looks up now to see the man still glaring at him, though he notices there is a hint of confusion in his eyes. The blond lets out a deep breath, “Just trust me.”

“I’m here to _kill_ you,” the black-haired man says incredulously. “And you want to _help_ me? Nice try, but I know you’ll just try to escape.”

“I… I won’t!” The blond is staring up at his kidnapper with petulant eyes. “I… I’m Ventus.”

The kidnapper narrows his eyes at the blond. “Huh?”

“You wanted to know who I am.” Ventus wonders to himself if telling the truth is a bad idea, but he feels desperate and is willing to say anything to get out of this situation. “I’m Ventus. I’m… the brother of the princess.”

“So that makes you the prince?” The kidnapper isn’t glaring anymore and instead looks highly interested. He withdraws his blade and seems to be examining Ventus thoroughly now. “No one knows of the existence of a prince in this kingdom.”

Ventus just shakes his head solemnly. “I’m a well-kept secret.”

The blond can see what looks to be a grin from behind the man’s mask. The black-haired man says, “So that must mean you’re worth a lot more as ransom than that sister of yours.”

“N… no!” Ventus feels his throat becoming raw. He tries to take deep breaths to calm himself, but the nerves have already taken hold of every fiber of his being. “I’m a secret not because I’m valuable or anything. I’m a secret because I’m a mistake. I’d be worth nothing.”

“Explain yourself clearly,” the man demands, his eyes glaring daggers once again.

“I… I wasn’t supposed to exist. The King and Queen are only to birth a princess of heart, yet here I am, their first child, a boy. It’s unheard of.” Ventus wants to cry now, the pain of the memories within the words he speaks stabbing his heart, but he wills the tears stay in their place. “I don’t even have magic like the rest of the royal family. There’s nothing special about me. I’m an anomaly. I shouldn’t have existed. That’s why they keep me a secret. If word goes out that the King and Queen had a mistake, the kingdom may fall into chaos.”

The kidnapper only looks at him with an unamused look in his eyes. “If you’re worth nothing and better off dead, then I should just kill you,” he says plainly, toying with the blade between his fingers.

Ventus stares at the red still spilling out of the side of the man’s stomach. “Do what you want. I don’t care. Just let me wrap up your damn gash.”

The black-haired man follows the path Ventus’s green eyes are glued to, and he winces upon seeing the wound, almost as if he had forgotten all about the pain all this time. He stumbles to a seating position as he covers the wound with his hand. “You’re just gonna escape, idiot.”

“I’m trying to help you out, bastard,” Ventus seethes out, not recognizing the own venom his words were capable of. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glint of red and is reminded immediately of the princess of heart… his sister, _Kairi_. The tears he was preventing from falling are finally free and dripping idly down his face as he recalls their last moment together. 

_“Happy birthday, Kairi,” the blond says with a soft smile._

_The redhead whips her head immediately at the sound of his voice and gives him the toothiest grin he has ever seen. She flings herself onto him at full force, causing the blond to stagger backwards. “Woah woah, calm down,” he says as he mirrors the girl’s actions and wraps his own arms around her back._

_“It’s your birthday too, dummy,” she mumbles into his chest. “It’s not fair you can’t even be at the party with me.”_

_“Well, you know how it is…” The blond sighs, trying to shrug of the melancholy tugging at his heart. “But it’s fine. I’m happy here. Also, I brought you a present.”_

_The two let go of each other as the blond grabs something off of the floor. He presents it in his hands: a pink star-shaped necklace. He smiles sheepishly and adds, “The Queen used to make these when I was younger. She doesn’t anymore, but I had one of the guards help me make one of these. Took us a couple weeks, but, well, I hope you like it, Kairi.”_

_The princesses’s blue eyes sparkle with awe. She puts on the necklace, touching the small star as if it meant the whole world to her. She looks to the blond with an expression of fondness and sadness. “Ven… I love it so much… but you know our mom would help you if you just as—”_

_“Here, I have a matching one,” Ven interrupts, pulling out a matching green star-shaped necklace from underneath his shirt. “This is the one the Queen made me a long time ago. But anyway, I should go now or you’ll be late.”_

_Without looking at her eyes, the blond spins around on his heels and starts walking away, only to feel a forceful tug on his wrist._

_“Ven…”_

_He doesn’t dare to look around, knowing that angry tone of voice all too well. He tries to tug his wrist away, but Kairi ends up yanking him back to facing her, her face scrunched up in frustration._

_“Ventus,” she says solemnly, and Ventus gulps. “I have a present for you too. You’re not allowed to leave until I give you it.”_

_“Ahh, Kairi, you really didn’t have to…”_

_Kairi’s scrunched face relaxes and is instead replaced with a mischievous smirk. Ven’s stomach lurches at that familiar smirk—a smirk reserved for when Kairi has a horrible, horrible plan hatched up in her crazy mind and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop her._

_The redhead digs around a chest in her room and promptly pulls out two things, both of which make Ven gasp in horror: a white dress and a red wig. Without a single word between them, the blond already knows what his sister’s present is, because she has had this same plan before._

_Ventus tries to discreetly walk away but is frozen in place with a stone-cold blue-eyed glare. “You can’t run away this time, Ven,” she says smugly, already yanking Ven onto a chair and putting the wig onto him._

_“This is such a bad idea…” He mumbles, shaking his head enough to make it difficult for her to put on the wig._

_Kairi tugs a lock of his blond hair, eliciting an overdramatic ouch from him. “It’s my present and you’re gonna like it. Plus, I know you want to be there. Just this once.”_

_“I’m gonna get caught…” He buries his face into his hands, shaking his head in doom._

_Kairi tugs another lock of blond hair, though softer this time. “No one’s going to know.”_

_“We literally look nothing alike, Kairi!” Ven’s voice is shaking with panic. “Oh, the King and Queen are gonna have my head—”_

_Kairi roughly pats the blond’s now red-covered head. She repeats, each word now being fully emphasized, “No one’s going to know.” She shoves the white dress into his lap. “Now put this on.”_

_Defeated, the blond starts tugging the dress onto him. Fortunately, the dress is big and billowy enough to hide his obviously unprincess-like body, but he still feels very uncomfortable. Thinking about how he would only be able to attend festivities that everyone else can attend just fine as themselves dressed as his own sister stings him. But Kairi is right; he does want to be there, just this once, to really feel what a party is like. No one has to know it’s him. No one is going to know it’s him._

_Fully dressed now and feeling a fleeting sense of courage course through him, Ventus stands in front of the mirror to see that, wow, maybe he can pull this off._

_“Also, forgot to mention,” Kairi chimes in from behind him, already pushing him out of the door. “I didn’t tell Sora or Riku that we’re doing this, but they’re dummies like you so you should be fine.”_

_Ventus blinks, the courage already draining from his soul. “Wai… Wait, what? Kairi?”_

_“Gotta add a little bit of danger, right?” She snorts as she pushes Ventus completely out of her door. With a wave and a smug smile, she says, “Have fun, princess,” and slams the door shut in his face._

_“Wait, Kairi! I can’t do this this!”_

_But there is no answer from behind the door, and he knows Kairi won’t be answering any time soon unless Ventus accepts her gift wholeheartedly. He chuckles to himself, feeling blessed to have a younger sister that cares so much and tries her best to let him have a semblance of a normal life. Everything about dressing up as your younger sister just to attend a party is anything but normal, but Ventus will take what he can._

_And so with newfound resolve, he bunches up the sides of his dress and walks out of the hallway, ready to have a party he has always dreamed of._

Though, it wasn’t as great as he thought it would be, he thinks sadly, breaking his thoughts away from the memory.

When Ventus shakes out of his reverie, he notices the black-haired man is now close to him again, the blade nowhere he can see but can feel the dull coolness on his chest. The tears streaming out of his eyes are blurring his vision, but he can barely make out how dark and glazed over those golden eyes are now. The blond closes his eyes shut, his whole body shaking profusely. He thinks, he can’t die, not _yet_ —not when this crazed man’s target was his very own little sister, the only light he has ever had in his life.

Ventus opens his eyes again and takes a good look at the man, who surprisingly seems distracted at the moment. Taking advantage of the lucky situation, Ventus bumps his head upwards harshly, hitting the kidnapper square in the jaw and knocking him backward, the blade flinging towards his side. He makes a desperate grab for it with his restrained hands, making a noise of triumph when he realizes he is successfully holding it in one hand, and is hurriedly cutting the ropes loose.

He hears a groan in front of him, signaling him to cut faster, more desperately, and within seconds, he finally feels relief from his aching wrists. He stands up now, blade still in hand and gripped in a reverse grip, looking down onto the knocked-down kidnapper, readying himself for a fight—until he notices that the man, who has already come to, isn’t even looking at him but instead at the wound, or the lack thereof. There are still cuts through the fabric of the robe where the wound once was, but the large red gash is gone now, smooth, toned skin showing no sign of there ever being a single cut to begin with.

All of a sudden, the black-haired man is looking up at the blond now, his eyes suspicious and incredulous and frantic all at once. “What did you do?”

Ventus tightens his grip on the blade. “What do you mean what did _I_ do?”

“You sniveling, lying brat,” the man sneers with gritted teeth. He stands up now, and Ventus can now see that they’re surprisingly very similar in height, the black-haired man reaching only an inch or two above him. “You said you didn’t know any magic.”

Ventus gives him an offended look. “I don’t! Or I didn’t?” His eyes narrow, disbelief washing over him. He eyes the smooth skin where the wound used to be again, still not believing _he_ could have done something like that, especially without him realizing it. “I’ve never been able to do anything like that before! I don’t even know how I did it—honest!”

The black-haired man doesn’t reply, seemingly ignoring the blade gripped tightly by the anxious blond, and is touching the exposed skin. He looks like he’s in deep thought, and Ventus thinks this is the perfect chance to attack and make sure the kidnapper has no chance of ever touching Kairi, but he feels frozen in his current position. He can’t kill; he _shouldn’t_ kill. And he won’t, he begrudgingly concedes, lowering the blade to his side. He just needs to make sure the kidnapper won’t do anything to his sister.

“Please, you can do what you want with me,” he murmurs sullenly, looking to the ground. “Just don’t come near my little sister.”

He looks up to see some sort of glint shine through the other man’s eyes. Ventus is unsure of what the glint is, but it almost seems familiar—almost like some sort of empathy…

Silence looms over them like a thick blanket. The black-haired man stares at him in concentration, as if he is trying to completely figure out exactly what Ventus is. Ventus stares back, nonchalantly wondering to himself how many fights the man has been in to get so many thick scars everywhere. He wonders why those golden eyes have glints of empathy at the mention of his little sister, and he wonders what the other man is thinking about right now, examining Ventus’s face, wondering what all he could decipher.

Finally, as an end to the thick silence looming over them, the black-haired man’s gruff voice comes out in almost a whisper. “I… won’t.”

Ventus’s eyes shine bright. “R-really?” The blond inches closer to the other man, who only cautiously staggers backwards in response. “You promise?”

The black-haired man glares at him briefly before looking away. “I don’t make promises. But you have my word, dammit. But—”

“But?”

“— _but_ , I’m not letting you go just yet.” The black-haired man frowns. “I need money. This ransom mission was gonna be my last…”

Ventus quirks an eyebrow. “Why do you need money so bad?”

“Not important, but regardless, you’re gonna have to help make it up to me for showing you and the princess mercy.” The black-haired man crosses his arms over his chest. “Starting tomorrow, I’m putting you to work.”

Ventus doesn’t know what to think about being made to put to work. Having always been inside, sheltered completely within the castle walls, he realizes he has never had to work in his life. He has never had to do anything in his life, really. But the more he thinks about the prospect of working—of being able to actually do something and make something out of himself—he starts to really like the idea. Except…

“I… I don’t want to kill people or anything like that…”

The black-haired man glares at him, his crinkled eyebrows making him look extremely offended by Ventus’s comment. “I don’t… whatever, you’re not gonna do anything like that. Okay? We’ll figure it out tomorrow. I’m exhausted now.”

The black-haired man grabs a big knapsack and digs around it, pulling out a long piece of black cloth. He crumples it up and throws it toward the blond, who clumsily catches it. The blond unfolds it in front of him and realizes that it’s a very worn robe, similar to what the other man is wearing right now.

“Use that as a blanket or whatever. Sorry my home isn’t the best _, your majesty_ ,” he says, sneering the nickname in the most sarcastic way imaginable.

Ventus chooses to ignore the quip, deciding that the other man, despite planning on kidnapping his little sister and being a bit of an asshole, may not be the absolute worst person in the world.

He chooses a little corner in the cramped room and covers himself in the robe. He faces away from the other man and looks to the wall, which from close up, he notices is full of dents and cracks. The blanket is a little thin, and the floors are a little hard, but Ventus can’t help but feel excited at how different this all is to the lonely comforts of his big room.

“Goodnight,” Ventus says tiredly, trying to suppress a yawn but failing miserably. He doesn’t expect a response back and isn’t surprised when he doesn’t get one at all. But with millions of thoughts swirling around his head, one thing has been nagging him.

“What should I call you?” he asks wearily, turning around to look at the man’s sleeping form. The black-haired man is facing the other side of the wall, but Ventus notices that he is clearly still awake.

After a few moments of silence, the man answers, his voice sounding hesitant. “Vanitas.”

Ventus plays around with that name in his mind. Vanitas… He wonders if that’s even the other man’s real name.

He wonders why someone who just kidnapped him would be so trusting that he wouldn’t just try to leave right now. It would be too easy for Ventus to sneak away at such a vulnerable, quiet moment. Ventus has considered trying to escape the whole time now, but the ache in his chest tells him there’s nothing… there’s _nobody_ waiting for him back in the castle. The King and Queen may even—no, not even may, but they definitely _are_ enjoying the fact that their problem—their secret little mistake—is gone from their sights.

Ventus swallows bitterly, trying to file away these aching thoughts to the very depths of his mind, but being outside of the castle for the first time in his life and being essentially all alone, he feels he can’t help the bitter thoughts from continuing to flow in.

For the rest of the night, Ventus lays still in the darkness, thinking how much happier the castle is right now without him being a burden to them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written for years now, but vanven owns my soul and I had the urgent need to write about them.


	2. Chapter 2

When Ventus sees light seeping into the dank room, he realizes it's already morning. The whole night had felt so miserable. His eyes feel heavy and sting badly.

He sits up and tries rubbing his eyes, hoping the friction will keep them open, but they continue to droop. He sighs, feeling too tired to do anything right now. He doesn't even realize how sore his body is from sleeping on the cold, hard floor. He almost doesn't remember why in the world he had slept on the floor when a rustling nearby makes his eyes automatically shift to the source of it: the black-haired, golden-eyed man supposedly named Vanitas.

Oh right, he was kidnapped last night.

He lets out another sigh, feeling silly having forgotten such an important detail. He concludes the lack of sleep is really messing with his head.

"You're not very subtle, your royal highness," Vanitas says flatly, facing away from the blond. Ventus notices that the other man isn't wearing the robe anymore and is instead wearing a form-fitting, sleeveless black shirt. His back muscles are prominent against the black fabric, and with the sunlight lighting up the room, Ventus gets a better look at all the scars covering those tanned, toned arms.

A fleeting thought about healing those scars pass through his mind as he recalls another surprising moment from last night: his accidental healing. He thinks Vanitas may be toying with him, but there really is no mistaking the complete disappearance of the fresh wound on his side. He wonders if he has some latent magical prowess like the rest of his family that hasn't bothered showing up until the very moment he thought he was going to die.

Ventus stares hard at his hands, trying to conjure up any kind of glowing magic like he has seen his sister do whenever she's healing someone. Nothing happens, though, no matter how hard he concentrates. He isn't even sure what he should specifically focus on, unsure of which emotions or thoughts could possibly invoke any kind of magic.

"Hey, prince, are you even listening, you idiot?"

Ventus blinks out of his reverie and turns to Vanitas who is looking at him now, a piece of bread stuffed in his mouth. He continues with a growl, "I said I heard you sniffing all night. Couldn't get an ounce of sleep with all your noise."

Pink dusts the blond's cheeks. "S-sorry," he sputters as he diverts his eyes away from the other's gaze.

He hears Vanitas sigh. "Look, if you miss your precious little castle so much, you can go back. Just don't send your guards after me." Vanitas mumbles afterwards, but the blond can barely make out what he says: _"You're gonna be more trouble than you're worth."_

The flush on his face deepens into an indignant red. "I'm _not_ going back," he says with strong finality that surprises himself. He can't go back, he reasons with himself, feeling a sting in his heart realizing that even here—even being kidnapped—he feels unwanted.

Vanitas makes a weird noise that sounds surprised and bemused. Ventus looks up to face the other man again and realizes that his mask is off, revealing the entirety of his rugged face. The blond muses that Vanitas's face looks very mature and experienced--a huge contrast to his own unmarked baby face. He touches his cheek, frowning at the softness. Of course he's soft and weak. All he has ever done is lounge around in the castle all day.

He imagines himself rugged and toned like Vanitas, but not even his imagination is letting him conjure up something so impossible.

"Why wouldn't you wanna go back to your posh lifestyle?" he asks, amusement twinkling in his golden eyes. "Weirdo."

"B-because!" Ventus is fighting hard against the blush threatening to return and devour his face. "Like I told you, the King and Queen won't miss me…"

Vanitas stares at him wordlessly. He seems to be scrutinizing Ventus as if the blond’s words have a deeper meaning to them, but Ventus knows in actuality what he says is the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

“I’ll work hard,” Ventus offers feebly.

Vanitas continues to stare before closing his eyes. “Alright. I know somewhere you can work. She owes me a favor.”

The blond stands up, suddenly feeling conscious of the white dress he is still wearing from the night before. Some of the pink flower accents on the dress have fallen off and are littered around his little corner. “Um,” he starts, “do you have something else I could wear?”

Vanitas snorts. “Why were you even wearing that, your highness?”

Ventus knows a flush is incoming and slaps it away, but the feelings of embarrassment still linger. “None of your business,” he says with a gruff huff.

The other man doesn’t question any further and begins searching around the cramped room for some extra clothing. After a while of searching, he retrieves a black, sleeveless shirt similar to the one he is wearing right now from under his wooden bed. Then he procures a pair of shorts from a wooden dresser that looks like it’s seen better days. He tosses them in a crumpled heap to the blond, who catches it with ease this time.

Ventus starts picking at his dress, about to take it off, when he suddenly feels very conscious of the other’s presence in the room, despite Vanitas not even looking and staring out the window instead. “Um,” he starts slowly, “can you, uh, leave for a second?”

Vanitas looks at him incredulously, but he shrugs and walks towards the door. “Whatever you want, your highness,” he says sarcastically before slamming the door behind him.

Ventus lets out a puff of air, feeling relaxed now, before shimmying the dress off his shoulders. The white dress falls to the floor without a sound, and he kicks it off of him entirely. He puts on the clothes given to him, thinking the shirt would hug his body much like how they did with Vanitas. But Ventus realizes both the black tank top and baggy shorts are a couple sizes too big on him, making him feel like he’s swimming in his clothes rather than wearing them. He grabs the dress from off the floor and takes out a white sash that had adorned his dress, using it as a homemade belt to keep his pants on.

Feeling satisfied, he lets out a breath before he stalks towards the door. He opens it, noticing Vanitas leaning against the wall right next to it.

“You took forever,” he mumbles, starting to walk away without even any indication Ventus should follow him.

The brightness outside feels so foreign to him, Ventus thinks, the warmth of the sunlight feeling so welcoming against his pale skin. He jogs up to where Vanitas is walking—and he walks fast, mind you—feeling like he has to speed walk himself just to keep up with the other man’s hurried steps. The blond feels like he has almost no time to bask in the foreign scenery around him. Even despite having lived in the kingdom all his life, he has never been able to step into the villages surrounding the exterior of the castle. He has only ever been able to see them from outside his window, high up in one of the castle towers.

The villages always looked so small and full of people from his view in the castle, but actually being on the streets, seeing people bustling around and all the houses and stores smashed up against each other, Ventus feels a little excited. No one knows about him, so it would be easy to immerse himself into the commoner lifestyle. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll have purpose.

The blond accidentally bumps into the black-haired man, a soft _oof_ escaping his lips. Vanitas doesn’t mention the bump but does pass a fleeting glare towards the blond’s direction before redirecting his attention to the building in front of them.

Ventus looks up to see a small, cozy-looking building with a sign that just says, in plain font, “Bookstore”. There are little shrubs and flowers lining the front of the store, but most of them look like they’re on the verge of dying. There are two sets of big windows next to the single door in the middle of the storefront, with a plethora of different books showcased haphazardly on each side. Ventus doesn’t recognize any of the books, but he still looks on in genuine awe.

Vanitas opens the door to the bookstore and enters, again with not a single word to Ventus. The blond follows suit, the smell of old paper and fading scented candles hitting his face all at once.

“Oh!” a soft, female voice says in surprise. Ventus sees a blonde, bespectacled girl in front of him. Her presence almost feels like that of a ghost, as she looks much too pale—even paler than him—and like she could disappear at any moment.

Vanitas walks up to the counter, pointing back at the blond with his thumb. “Let him work here,” he says, and Ventus just shakes his head at how rude the other man is to such a nice-looking lady. “You owe me, remember?”

“Vanitas, who is he?” she asks softly, her blue eyes examining the blond man inconspicuously.

The black-haired man is silent for a moment. Ventus opens his mouth to response himself, but suddenly, Vanitas’s response comes too quickly: “He’s the prince of the kingdom. A prince of heart.”

“V-Vanitas!” the blond says with scathing frustration, his heart beating fast. No one is supposed to know who he is. What in the world is Vanitas trying to do?

The blonde woman readjusts her thick glasses thoughtfully. “I see,” she says, some hesitation evident in her words. She steals a quick glance at Vanitas, who is mindlessly staring at the wall of books around them. After a moment of heavy silence, she clears her throat and speaks again. “I would be honored to have you working here, your royal majesty.”

“Um, please, just call me Ven,” he says quietly, feeling very awkward in this situation. “About what he said… I’m not really that much of a prince or anything, so—”

“Don’t worry. I won’t treat you any differently, Ven,” the blond woman says with a small smile. “I won’t ask any questions. Thank you for bringing me a much-needed assistant, Vanitas.”

The black-haired man nods silently before stealing a glance at Ventus. The blond meets the other’s gaze, locking onto those golden eyes for what feels like an eternity before feeling embarrassed and looking away.

Without another word, Vanitas leaves the bookstore, leaving Ventus to stand there awkwardly. He takes in a sharp, shaky inhale, feeling guilty for having intruded in the humble little bookstore.

The blond woman is already shuffling around the small bookstore, putting new books into some of the empty spaces on the shelves. “Can you help me put up some of the books?” she inquires suddenly, making Ventus jump.

“Uh, um, sure.” Ventus takes a couple books from the stack and starts looking around the shelves, feeling lost and directionless. He examines the other blonde, seeing her take quick glances at the spine of the book before putting them in their perfect spots. The blond stares at all the books wrapped in his arms. “Is there a method to this?”

“Alphabetical order,” she says, beginning to hum as she sorts the books.

Easy enough, Ventus thinks as he starts attempting to put the books in place. He fumbles around the bookstore, accidentally stepping on some books that have scattered on the floor, breathing out a quick sorry to each inanimate object he hurts.

The blonde woman continues her humming. “I’m _Naminé_ ,” she says while continuing her humming. “Have you known Vanitas for long?”

“No, I…” _…was kidnapped by him_. _I’ve barely known him for a day now._ Ventus lets out a sigh. “How about you, _Naminé_?”

The blond woman stops her work immediately, looking at Ventus square in the eyes now with a leer. “I’ve known him for far too long,” she seethes out, though Ventus can’t help but notice the unmistakable fondness in her faux-anger. “Since we were kids. He’s always been up to no good, so I’m not really surprised about any of this.” Her eyes soften as she says, almost too quietly for Ventus to hear, “But he’s a good person.”

Ventus nods in agreement, thinking of how he was spared, but there is a nagging thought that perpetuates. Regardless of whether Vanitas is a good person or not, the fact that he is alright with kidnapping and threatening and probably murdering… it doesn’t sit well with him. He wonders if _Naminé_ knows about this dark side of Vanitas, and he readies himself to ask, the question ready to burst out of his mouth, but he stops himself.

They seem close, he thinks—Vanitas and _Naminé_. If they have known each other since childhood, then _Naminé_ should probably have some sort of idea about what Vanitas does. If she doesn’t, well, _Naminé_ would feel guilty being the one to tell her.

So he opts to stay silent, continuing to focus on organizing the books. The work gets monotonous fast. There are only a few times the door bell would chime, signaling a customer, but everyone who enters only ends up browsing and leaving promptly.

By the end of the day, when the warm orange glow of the setting sun seeps into the bookstore, Ventus’s head feels exhausted and numb. He stares at the stack of books piled up in the corner and realized just how many of them that still needs sorting. He had been so focused on organizing the past couple hours that he feels like he hadn’t even been thinking.

 _Naminé_ is sitting at her desk, her blue eyes laser-focused on the book held in her hands. She peeks up from behind her book to stare at the almost zombie-like Ventus and chuckles. “Long day?”

Ventus smiles sheepishly. “I guess I’m just not used to working, is all.”

“You can take breaks when you need it,” she says, setting the book down face-open on her desk. “And you can read any of the books here. Anything that piques your interest. Oh!” She clasps her hands suddenly, the soft clap reverberating around the small store. “Let me get you your payment for today.”

She shuffles upstairs for a moment before reemerging with a giant bag in her arms. It looks like she’s struggling just carrying it, so Ventus quickly makes his way to her and offers to help her.

She smiles up at him. “This is for you.”

Ventus’s eyes widen. He takes the big bag from her arms and loosens the rope tied to it, taking a peek inside. He sees another small bag inside, most likely holding his payment, and the rest of the bag is filled with bread and cheese. “A-are you sure I can have all this?” he says, hearing his stomach rumbling.

“Yes, of course. Make sure to share some with Vanitas.” The door bell chimes, redirecting both of their attention to the doorframe where the black-haired man is standing, arms crossed. “Speaking of…”

Vanitas eyes the bag in Ventus’s arms, looking to Namine with a look that Ventus can’t quit discern, before saying, “Let’s go.”

The black-haired man, as usual, is already walking away, so Ventus bows his head goodbye to his new boss and clumsily fumbles around the bookstore to take his leave as well. He runs to catch up to Vanitas, who was already a few blocks away at this point.

Just catching up to the other man makes Ventus gasp out for air, his legs and arms feeling like noodles. Such simple work and his body already feels like it’s reached his limit, he thinks pathetically, struggling to carry the bag _Naminé_ had given him while he keeps up with Vanitas’s pace.

“Can you slow down a little?” he asks in-between shallow breaths, feeling as if he’s going to collapse any second now. Vanitas doesn’t say anything—doesn’t even turn around to acknowledge him—but Ventus notices that the other man’s walking did slow down considerably, letting Ventus get a chance to relax.

Eventually, once the sun set completely and the sky turns purple, the two finally make it back to wherever Vanitas’s home is. Ventus never got a chance to get a good look at the exterior until now, but he isn’t shocked to see the exterior matches the interior: broken walls, a broken window pane, the wood looking dirty and worn.

Vanitas unlocks the door with a key, stepping inside, and Ventus follows suit. Once inside, Ventus darts towards to his designated corner and plops down, exhaustion completely overtaking him. His stomach had been grumbling nonstop since the walk here, so he takes a piece of bread from the bag and chews on it fervidly.

Vanitas is staring at him all the while, expressionless. Ventus catches him out of the corner of his eye, feeling discomfort at being stared at.

He fishes around the bag for another piece of bread and the small bag he had seen earlier, then uses whatever strength he has left to get up and walk towards the bed. He stands in front of Vanitas and shoves the bread and the small bag at the other man. “Here’s your payment,” he says, his words sounding off due to his chewing on small remnants of the bread in his mouth.

The black-haired man opens the small bag, emptying its contents. A couple gold and silver coins plop out and land in the palm of his hand. After some careful introspection, he says flatly, “She paid you too much.”

“Well, you should be happy since you need it, right?” Ventus says, looking at the coins, thinking that yes, _Naminé_ really did pay him a lot, especially considering the fact he didn’t feel like he deserved all of this from the menial work he had done.

Vanitas frowns. “It feels like you robbed her.”

Ventus looks at the other man incredulously. Him _—rob her?_ He really can’t comprehend what he is hearing right now from a kidnapper, a thief, a _murderer_.

He is glaring at the other man now, his anger and frustration surely visible on his ruddy face. “She was the one who gave that to me. I didn’t _steal_ anything from her! I worked for it, like you told me to! In fact, you’re the one who brought me to her!” He scoffs angrily. “I don’t think you even have any right even talking about morals when you’re out here kidnapping people and threatening their lives just to get some money!”

Vanitas glares at him, standing up himself just to show off the few inches he has on the blond. “I’m doing what I have to,” he says through gritted teeth. “You would understand.”

“Actually, I _don’t_ ,” he hisses, feeling more and more confused. “You’re not making _any_ sense. You’ve done so much more horrible things than what you’re accusing me of. What the hell is wrong with you?”

The black-haired man purses his lips. It looks like he is ready to explode at any second now—ready to lash out at Ventus and barrage him with anger. But surprisingly enough, Ventus sees the other man just look away from him, as if they hadn’t just been arguing, and crawl into his bed without another word.

On the other hand, Ventus is still fuming, his anger overflowing and needing some kind of release. He feels dumb just standing there being angry while Vanitas ignores him, so he starts noisily pacing around the small room, trying to gather his thoughts. Vanitas is completely quiet, and that makes Ventus even angrier, because _he_ was the one who started this argument. What’s his deal anyway? If he wants money so bad, he should’ve happily accepted the payment, that confusing bastard.

Ventus shakes his head, realizing that he really needs to cool off, so he walks out of the house and onto the village streets. The streets are dark, with most of the lamps lining the streets very dim or just not functioning at all. But Ventus continues to trudge through the streets, hoping the cool breeze will help cool himself off.

He doesn’t know where he is going at all, but his feet keep trudging along the sidewalk with harsh steps. His mind feels so foggy with anger—an anger he didn’t realize he was capable of harboring. He really shouldn’t be as angry as he is; he shouldn’t have let the accusation rile him up so much. But even if Vanitas can be nice and may be a “good person,” the fact of the matter is he does bad things— _evil_ things. If it had been Kairi, the _real_ target, who had been kidnapped instead of him…

He shivers, his anger flaring much hotter now. His sister means the whole world to him, so to just imagine her getting kidnapped and potentially getting hurt breaks his heart and causes unyielding anger in him.

His steps are harsher against the pavement now, more hurried. He continues to walk, faster and faster, until he bumps into a small frame. He rips his restrained eyes open and sees Naminé on the ground, looking up at him inquisitively.

“Ven… was that you?” she asks, pointing behind her. Ventus looks around, his eyes going wide at the shattered street lamps, the broken pieces of glass covering the entirety of the sidewalk he had been walking. He didn’t even notice a single shattering sound around him.

The overwhelming anger inside of him slowly dissipates as it is instead replaced with horror of what had just happened. He couldn’t have done anything like that, right? The dreadful feeling of guilt sitting in his stomach proves otherwise.

Crowds of onlookers are gathering around the shattered street lamps now, murmuring about what had just happened all around. Ventus stills, feeling frozen in place, but Naminé gently grabs him by the wrist and pulls him toward her bookstore door, coaxing him inside.

Once inside, Ventus covers his face with his shaking hands. “What did I…”

“Wait here. I’ll get some tea,” Naminé pipes up, scurrying upstairs. She quickly walks back onto the ground floor with a small cup of tea, which she offers to the other blond.

Ventus takes it gratefully and takes a small sip, the warmth and subtle fragrance reminding him of the gardens back at the castle. He calms down significantly, though his hands are still shaking.

“What happened?” she asks carefully, patting the man’s back comfortingly.

Ventus shakes his head. “I don’t know. I was angry. He made me so angry…” He makes sure not to say Vanitas’s name, still feeling a small tinge of anger that makes him not ready to say it yet, but he hopes Naminé understands.

She nods her head. “He is disagreeable and frustrating, definitely. Don’t mind him too much. He has his reasons.”

Ventus looks at her with a frown. “Do you know that he… kidnaps people?”

She nods.

Ventus continues, “Then do you know he threatens them? Threatens to kill them? Like…” Ventus lets out a shaky sigh. “Like he did with me? Like what he was planning on doing to the princess… to my _sister_?”

The blonde is silent for a few moments before responding, “Yes. I know about everything he does.”

“And you’re okay with that?” His voice is dangerously rising again, not being able to believe that someone as sweet and soft-spoken as Naminé would know about Vanitas’s wrongdoings and be completely fine with it.

The blonde nods slowly. “I’ll explain everything later. Please get some rest now, Ven,” she says calmly, ushering him to follow her.

Taking shallow breaths to steady his heated disposition, Ventus follows suit, walking up the creaky wooden stairs right behind the other blonde, each step calming him down. His head is swirling with too many thoughts—too many questions—but he agrees with Naminé. He needs some rest lest he do something dangerous again.

The upstairs floor is small and tiny just like the ground floor. Instead of being covered in more books like what Ventus expected, the second floor is full of a variety of flasks and vials with strange, colorful liquids in them. Faceless mannequins are piled up in the center, right on top of a peculiar, intricately drawn circle. There are candles everywhere, some glowing a color other than fire.

But what both astonishes and worries Ventus the most are the two beds—one empty, clearly for Naminé, and another one currently preoccupied. He steals a glance at the occupied bed, noting that the person occupying it looks dangerously pale, the stark contrast of her jet-black hair against her skin making her look like a gothic painting. There are red flower petals scattered atop her, unmoving, so he presumes that person may not even be breathing…

“Sleep here for tonight,” Naminé says, pointing to the empty bed.

Ventus looks at it, then looks to her in guilt. “What about you?”

The blonde smiles. “I don’t plan on sleeping tonight, so don’t worry about me. Please get some rest.”

Ventus hesitates, but eventually gives in, the yawn escaping his lips a clear indication that his body is already deciding to shut down. He crawls into the bed, grateful that it’s soft albeit small for him. He watches Naminé sit in a chair, tinkering around with the flasks on the table. He tries blinking away the sleep, mesmerized by the swirling colors in the glasses, but exhaustion comes too soon, lulling him away into a deep slumber.

* * *

When Ventus awakes, it’s to the sound of a gentle hum. He recognizes it immediately as Naminé’s humming. It sounds so soothing that he feels he can almost doze off again. But he forces his eyes open, seeing Naminé sitting in the same chair he had seen her in last night, still tinkering with the vials and flasks on the desk.

He stretches his sore body and lets out a yawn before piping up, his voice still sounding dreary. “What are you doing?”

Naminé stops working immediately and flips her head around. “Oh! Ven, you’re awake!” She shuffles a pair of slippers onto her feet and walks towards the other blond. “Let me ask you, Ven. How well can you control your magic?”

Ventus gawks at her. “How did you…”

“Those street lamps were damaged by magical energy,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone. She pushes the thick black frames up her small nose. “That sort of magical output is incredible.”

Ventus smiles sheepishly and laughs awkwardly. “Uh, actually, I didn’t know I had any magical powers or anything. I apparently healed Vanitas the other day, and that’s the first time I’ve ever done anything like that. And now… the street lamps…” The blond shakes his head. “I don’t really know what’s going on anymore.”

“You’re of royal blood, so magical powers are inherent. Though, it seems odd to not have it show until now.” Suddenly, she clasps her hands together, her face looking as if she was just struck by an epiphany. “Ven, Ven, this is excellent!”

“Wh-what is?” Ventus’s head is swirling again. Why is everyone so confusing?

“I can teach you!” she says with a sparkle in her eyes.

“Do you… know magic too? Are you of royal blood?”

Naminé giggles. “No, no, of course not. But you see”—she makes a grand gesture with her hands, little colorful sparks coming out of her fingertips—"I’m a witch.”

Ventus stares at her, his mouth hanging open. A witch. He had heard stories about them from the King and Queen… from Kairi too. All terrible, terrible stories of the destruction they have brought to royalty and commoners alike. Their existence was supposedly wiped out, but…

He continues to stare at Naminé: the soft-spoken girl who had shown him nothing but kindness—nothing like the witches described in all his bedtime stories. Though he thinks back to last night—thinks back to their conversation about Vanitas and the bad things he does and how Naminé is alright with all of it. Even though Naminé has such a sweet demeanor, he wonders if, much like how she hides her identity as a witch, she hides a more notorious side to her personality.

“I’m one of the last of my kind in the kingdom. The only other witch I know of is… well… see for yourself…” She nods towards the preoccupied bed, at the black-haired girl laying on it.

“Is she… dead?” Ventus whispers, afraid of sounding insensitive.

“Deep sleep,” Naminé says simply. “Has been for years now. I’ve been trying to come up with a cure but you see how well that’s been going.”

He stares at the lifeless, pallid body, noting the subtle pained expression she is wearing. His sister would easily be able to heal whatever ails the black-haired girl, but if her identity as a witch is to be found out, her very existence would be threatened.

Ventus stares at his hands, imagining them glowing. “I can help.”

“Yes, you can!” Naminé clasps Ventus’s hands in hers, lifting them up in-between their faces. “Oh, thank you, Ven!”

The blond man smiles at her, a warm sensation in his chest. He has never felt needed before, so the feeling is foreign to him but welcome. He can be useful… He will be useful, he thinks happily, musing the potential of his magical powers and wondering if he could ever be as talented as Kairi is.

“Let’s start in a couple days then. I have to ready my supplies before we can start. Until then, I suppose you should talk to Vanitas,” she suggests, unclasping their hands, but Ventus just frowns at the idea. He is the absolute last person Ventus wants to see right now.

He mumbles begrudgingly, “I don’t think we should see each other for a while… Or ever, if possible.”

“Why not?”

“He got so angry for no reason.” Ventus’s blood pressure feels like it’s rising just from remembering the petty argument from last night. “He got mad because you paid me too much—thinks I robbed you. Isn’t he the one who robs people? And—and plus he wants me to pay him back for the ransom on my sister. My sister! The nerve of him…”

Naminé rolls her eyes, stifling a laugh into the palm of her hands. “Oh, he’s definitely being overdramatic. I paid you exactly what I think you deserve. Plus, I’m sure you need to eat. I doubt Vanitas is helpful on that front.”

“Not at all,” Ventus says with a scoff.

“Well, how about this? I’ll let you stay here.” Her crystal blue eyes are twinkling again. “It’ll be more convenient anyway. If Vanitas comes by, I’ll show him what for.”

Ventus nods in agreement, offering his thank you’s before watching Naminé slip back downstairs to work. She had left him a book that was kept locked up in one of her drawers: a thick, heavy book simply titled Magic.

The blonde woman had suggested he read through the book but not to attempt anything yet, so for the rest of the day, he skims through the book, the language foreign to him but the pictures offering some small entertainment. Towards the end of the book, he notices a picture of a girl that has a strong resemblance to Kairi. He idly wonders what she is up to, if she even misses him…

He closes the book, careful not to be too rough on it, and sprawls out against the floor. He stares at the ceiling, wanting to focus on anything other than the castle, and settles on staring at the dim lightbulb lighting up the small room. He blinks and blinks, and then he blinks again, and he sees the light fade slightly before lighting up brighter than before.

He reaches a hand towards it, closing his eyes completely. He doesn’t need to think about his royal “family” anymore, especially considering a complete stranger has shown him more kindness than he has ever known. All he needs to focus on right now is finding a way to help Naminé any way he can.


End file.
